The maid guided Adrian through winding corridors that seemed older than the academy itself, their stones polished smooth by centuries of footsteps that had carried nobles, knights, and kings through these halls. Tapestries bearing the golden sunburst of House Valebright hung from walls at regular intervals—each one a masterwork of thread and gold worth more than most families would see in a lifetime. At each corner stood a knight in polished ceremonial armor, not academy guards but royal protectors whose sharp eyes tracked Adrian's every movement with the kind of attention reserved for potential threats.
Adrian's chest tightened, though not from fear. This was not his world. Not the rough stone of Northwatch with its practical defenses and constant vigilance. Not the utilitarian architecture of the academy where function trumped beauty. This was the heart of Arathor—the veins through which the kingdom's power flowed, where decisions that shaped nations were made over tea in rooms more valuable than entire villages.
The maid stopped before a tall door carved with intricate vines and roses, each petal rendered in such exquisite detail they seemed ready to bloom. She bowed her head once and opened it without a word, then stepped aside.
Adrian drew a breath and stepped through.
The room was not what he expected. There were no gilded thrones, no ostentatious displays of wealth meant to intimidate visitors with the power of the crown. Instead, warm afternoon sunlight poured through wide windows that overlooked the academy grounds, glimmering off shelves lined with books and scrolls—a scholar's study more than a throne room. A small table had been set with a simple tea service, fine quality certainly, but restrained. The air carried the faint scent of lavender and old parchment.
And seated at that table, backlit by sunlight that made her blonde hair glow like captured gold, was Alice Valebright.
She was no longer wearing the blood-stained armor he'd last seen her in. Instead, she wore a simple dress—still noble in cut and fabric, but nothing ostentatious. Her posture remained poised, every motion carrying the refinement of someone raised to command nations. But there was something different now, something he hadn't fully appreciated in the chaos of battle.
Her eyes—blue, sharp, and unflinching—lifted to meet his. There was composure in her gaze, but also curiosity. And perhaps recognition of what they'd shared. Death faced together. Secrets revealed in desperation. Colors that shouldn't exist blazing side by side.
The maid closed the door behind Adrian, leaving them in silence.
For a moment, neither spoke. Adrian found himself frozen, caught off guard in a way demons and death had never managed. She was stunning. Not fragile-princess beautiful like ballads described, but radiant in a way that unsettled him more than any battlefield ever had. Strong and intelligent and more dangerous to his composure than anything he'd faced.
"You are Adrian Blackthorn," Alice said finally, and it wasn't a question. Her voice carried natural authority despite being gentle in volume.
Adrian forced himself to move, to respond like a functional human rather than a demon prince caught staring. "Your Highness." He inclined his head slightly—not quite a bow, but acknowledgment of her status.
Her lips curved faintly. "Just Alice, please. At least when we're alone. I spend enough time being 'Your Highness' everywhere else." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Please. Sit."
Adrian hesitated, then lowered himself into the chair, every muscle still taut despite the peaceful setting. His gaze never quite left hers, old instincts refusing to fully relax even here.
"I wanted to speak with you privately," Alice continued, pouring tea with practiced grace. "Before the investigations truly begin. Before we're both caught up in the machinery of testimony and testing and politics." She met his eyes. "As warriors who fought together. Not as princess and squire."
"I'm not sure that distinction matters anymore," Adrian said carefully. "Not after what was revealed."
"Perhaps not," Alice admitted. "But I'd like to pretend it does. Just for a little while." She slid a cup across to him. "You fought well last night. Against the demon noble. Most squires would have faltered—most veterans would have. But you held your own. More than that. You ended it."
Adrian accepted the tea, noting the slight tremble in his hands that came from exhaustion rather than nerves. "It wasn't just me. You fought well too. That violet flame of yours—" He paused, searching for words. "It was something I won't forget. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure."
Alice blinked, surprised by the earnest compliment. Heat rose faintly to her cheeks, though she masked it behind composure. "It's a burden as much as a gift. Legendary flame in the princess—everyone will have expectations now. Opinions about what it means, what I should do with it."
She set her own cup down with careful precision.
"But hearing praise from someone who wielded crimson flame to kill a demon noble? I'll take that." Her lips quirked slightly. "Even if crimson is technically unprecedented and possibly demonic."
"Possibly," Adrian agreed dryly.
Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable but charged. Like the faint hum of a drawn blade, waiting.
Alice leaned forward slightly, studying him with open curiosity now that they were alone. "You carried yourself differently than the others. In the battle. Not just skilled—experienced. As if you'd fought demons before. Many times before."
"Border life," Adrian said, the prepared answer coming easily. "My family has held Northwatch for four hundred years. Demons don't wait for you to be ready. So you learn early. Grow fast. Every day is a reminder of what's at stake when the walls are the only thing between your people and hell."
Alice's expression softened with something that might have been understanding or sympathy. "That explains much. The Blackthorn name carries significant weight across the kingdom, even if common people don't always show their gratitude. Without your family holding the northern line..." She trailed off meaningfully.
"Arathor would have fallen centuries ago," Adrian finished quietly. "I know. It's what we're told from childhood. The responsibility. The duty. The blood price that comes with our name."
"And you?" Alice asked, her voice gentle. "What was it like for you? Growing up as a Blackthorn with that weight?"
Adrian was quiet for a moment, memories flickering—though not the memories she expected. Not childhood on the border, but centuries older. Demon wars. Princes commanding armies. Blood and fire and choices that cost thousands of lives.
"Strict," he said finally, choosing truth where he could. "Northwatch is stone and steel, cold winds and endless vigilance. My father, my brother, all of us—we were raised knowing we might die defending those walls. That every day could be the last if the demons came in force."
He met her eyes.
"It makes you value the moments between battles. Makes you understand that strength without purpose is just violence. Makes you—" He paused, surprised to find himself being this honest. "Makes you tired of death, sometimes. Even when you're good at dealing it."
Alice's blue eyes held his, searching, thoughtful. From this close, he could see the determination in them. The strength that had manifested as violet flame. The intelligence that had kept her alive when seven of her squadmates died.
"That explains much," she said softly. "Why you seemed so calm in the chaos. Why you moved with confidence when others froze. Why you..." She hesitated. "Why you chose to reveal your crimson flame, knowing what it would cost you."
"Because I was tired of hiding costing lives," Adrian said bluntly. "Because Brann died while I calculated angles. Because secrets have prices and I decided I was done letting other people pay them."
Their gazes lingered, unspoken understanding weaving between them. Two people who'd both been hiding what they were. Both choosing to stop in the same desperate moment.
Without quite meaning to, Adrian found himself studying details he'd been too focused on survival to notice before. The way sunlight caught in her hair, turning it almost luminous. The slight scar on her left forearm—from training or real combat. The intelligence in her eyes that matched the strength he'd seen in her blade work.
She's not just beautiful, he thought helplessly. She's everything dangerous wrapped in royal silk. Strong and smart and more of a threat to my carefully maintained distance than any demon.
Alice, for her part, noticed things the chaos of battle had obscured. The faint scar across his cheek—old, probably from childhood. The way his gray eyes stayed alert even here, in peaceful surroundings, as if part of him never quite relaxed. The calm steadiness in his bearing even facing royalty in her own territory.
He's handsome, she realized with warmth that crept up her neck. Not just in appearance but in presence. Different from the nobles who court me with pretty words and calculated charm. Real. Dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with his crimson flame.
The silence stretched a beat too long. Both of them became aware they'd been staring. Alice drew back with practiced composure, though her cheeks carried color. Adrian maintained his expression carefully, refusing to show how much her nearness had affected him.
To ease the tension—or perhaps just redirect it—Alice spoke again. "That wasn't the first time we met."
Adrian blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Outside the academy hall," Alice said, her lips curving with something that might have been mischief. "The night of registration. I was wearing a hood, trying to blend in, be anonymous for once. You bumped into me—or I bumped into you—and my hood slipped just enough for you to see my face."
Memory crashed into Adrian like a physical blow. The blonde girl in the hooded cloak. The brief eye contact. The sense he'd seen someone who didn't want to be seen. The feeling that had lingered for days after, impossible to explain.
"That was you," he said, not quite a question.
"That was me," Alice confirmed. "I recognized you immediately when you arrived at the ambush. The boy who'd noticed me when everyone else was too busy or too intimidated to really look. Who'd seen me as a person rather than... whatever else people see when they know I'm a princess."
"I didn't know you were royalty then," Adrian admitted. "Just thought you were someone trying very hard not to be noticed."
"Which is exactly what I was doing." Alice's smile was genuine now, warm in a way that made her seem less like a princess and more like the warrior who'd fought beside him. "Funny how things work. We met as strangers trying to be invisible. Then again as warriors with violet and crimson flames blazing. And now..."
"Now we're both exposed," Adrian finished. "No more hiding who we are."
"No more hiding," Alice agreed softly.
Their gazes locked again, and this time neither looked away. The silence between them was no longer just charged—it was magnetic, pulling them toward something neither quite understood yet.